


The Samson Complex

by Avelera



Category: Bleach
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Haircuts, Humor, Missing Scene, One Shot, Pining, shiyori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the Vizards flee Soul Society, it seems it's finally time for some change. A missing scene from the Turn Back the Pendulum arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Samson Complex

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the (somewhat baffling and infuriating) wrap-up of the Bleach manga, I thought I'd archive one of my old Bleach fics here on AO3. Originally published in 2009 over on Fanfiction.net.

"Ne, ne Kensei! Do you think its safe to go out now?" Mashiro said.

Lisa looked up from her newspaper and turned her expressionless gaze on the green-haired girl. She said nothing, but a slight frown narrowed her lips. Hachi seemed not to notice Mashiro's outburst as he leaned against the wall, his legs folded and his eyes closed in meditation, but his shoulders shifted and closed in as if to shield his rotund body.

A vein throbbed in Kensei's forhead and the skin around his eyes tightened. The whole picture of impending wrath might have been a bit more threatening had he not been wearing a frilly pink apron over his western-style shirt and trousers. Standing at a stove preparing rice like an overworked housewife certainly did not help the image either. "No," he said curtly, without looking up from the stove. The rice whipped a little more violently against the side of the pot.

"But I'm bored, and I'm sick of your cooking! I want to go and eat dumplings and ohagi, and teppanyaki!" Mashiro's arms flapped inside of her overlong sleeves. While Lisa had taken to wearing the long skirts affected by Karakura schoolgirls, Mashiro had defied any attempt at blending in. She was currently wearing one of Kensei's shirts, belted at the waist to form a barely decent sort of dress. The long cuffs dangled past her slim hands and the buttons she had left undone at the neck left little to the imagination. "I don't want to be cooped up in here anymore! It's just a stinky, smelly warehouse and I'm tired of looking at your ugly face every day!"

The vein was throbbing an ugly red in Kensei's temple and the rice was now whipping about so quickly that a few grains flew out of the pot and stuck to Kensei's face. His teeth were set in death's head grin.

Still getting no reaction, Mashiro took a deep breath, "KEN-!"

"No, you can't go out so just shut the hell up about it already and go kill yourself or something. If I hear your damn voice one more time—!" rice forgotten, Kensei loomed in front of Mashiro, chopsticks held as if he planned to stab her eyes out. The green-haired girl didn't even blink, her face still crinkled with an oncoming tantrum. The screaming match escalated until any words that might have been exchanged between the two of them were drowned out in the combined force of Mashiro's high-pitched whining and Kensei's screamed obscenities.

"Why are ya making all this racket?" came Shinji's voice.

Shinji appeared from the trapdoor that lead to the training room, Hiyori's not far behind him like a sulking shadow. His hair was the same sheet of blond that ran all the way down his back but that was perhaps the only thing about him that was reminiscent of the former Shinigami captain. His "zoot" suit as he called it, apparently all the rage in some place called Harlem was a dusky tan and looked at least a size too big, bulking out his rather scrawny figure in much the same way that his captain's coat once had. Behind him Hiyori was wearing what resembled a yukata, tied loosely so as to not restrict her movement. Even with with a fair amount of leg showing she stilled little older than twelve. Her characteristic scowl was there but it was weaker than usual, sweat glistening on her brow and and her breath came in short gasps as if she had just run a marathon.

"What are you doing up here? Dinner ain't ready yet. I thought you and Hiyori would be training for another hour," said Kensei, temporarily ignoring Mashiro who had begun to roll back and forth across the floor.

"Tch, we were till we heard the screaming," Shinji sniffed the air, "Is something burning?"

Kensei cursed and darted back to the stove, flipping off the heat and blowing futilely at what was likely to be another foul-tasting meal.

By now Mashiro had righted herself though the petulant look had not left her heart-shaped face. "Shinjiii, Kensei won't let me go out!"

"Huh, why are you telling me this?" said Shinji.

"Because it's been a year," said Lisa in her low, quiet voice. The room went silent.

Shinji's blank expression seemed to close even further, until his face was expressionless as a mask of bone.

"Unlike the rest of you, I have been outside," said Lisa, "I've barely escaped Soul Society agents on numerous occasions. Second squad, sixth squad, fifth," Shinji's eyes narrowed, "and even the eighth. But now they've stopped. Tell them, Hachi," said Lisa, turning to the pink-haired Kido master.

Hachi sighed, clearly unhappy that he was being drawn in at all, "It's true," he rumbled, "once the sweeps passed over us several times a day but it has been a week since I have felt any spiritual pressure at all."

Lisa nodded, "Shinji, I'm telling you this because you're our leader," Shinji tsked and looked away but Lisa continued, "We've followed you now for the last year and its kept us alive. But the search is over, Soul Society doesn't care about us anymore."

"Yeah right!" said Hiyori. "They're probably just waiting for us to come out of hiding so they can kill us!" The tiny blonde's scowl was back full force and she swept a brown-eyed glare across the room as if daring the company to contradict her.

"It's only a matter of time before the evidence catches up to Aizen," said Shinji, "Soul Society is probably holding his trial right now."

"I don't think so," came the voice of Rose.

"Is dinner ready?" said Love as he too emerged from the training room. He mutely accepted a plate from Kensei and began to eat the goopy mess without complaint. Kensei doled out plates to the others but they all remained silent while they waited for Rose to continue.

"Hunting us was the actions of a weakened Soul Society," said Rose. "The evidence was shaky, they needed to feel as if they were doing something. Now that they've stopped, it means they have reached a position of strength and left their period of uncertainty. They have concluded that we are traitors and, likely as not, they've already replaced us."

"That's bullshit," growled Hiyori, "Urahara will—"

"Urahara is in more danger than us, and his credibility has been destroyed," said Love. "Him and Tessai both. Soul Society will never listen to either of them, not until Aizen proves his guilt clearly enough for even blind old Yamamato to see."

"So what are we supposed to do?" said Hiyori, "Crouch here like rats for a century or two until Aizen messes up? Knowing him that might never happened," her mouth twisted as if she had bitten into something sour.

"Mashiro has the right idea," said Lisa.

"Wha-? I did?" said Mashiro.

"We have to accept that Soul Society is never going to allow us back," Lisa continued, "We're going to have to accept that and move on. Forget we were ever Shinigami in the first place."

"I never said that!" exclaimed Mashiro just as the group of former Shinigami exploded into a cacophony of dissent.

"We might be cleared any day!"

"If we give up, Aizen has won!"

"How the fuck are we supposed to blend in? In case you haven't noticed, Mashiro's hair is green and Hachi is the size of a hut, no offense."

"None taken. Lisa, really, I must protest…"

Lisa waited for the shouting to die down but to her surprise it was Shinji who spoke first, raising his voice only so high that it drove everyone to silence.

"Lisa is right. We gotta stop bumming around here like Soul Society is going to come in and fix everything for us. We're not Shinigami anymore, we're something else, something that Soul Society decided has to die. Maybe we'll get our chance to make things right someday. But for now, well, I don't know about you but if I have to eat Kensei's cooking one more time I may just hand myself over to Yamamato gift-wrapped," said Shinji. "It's time for us to rejoin the human world."

"Shinji…" whispered Hiyori, then rallied herself, "What if it's a trap?"

"We'll handle it," said Shinji dismissively.

"And if they find us?" said Hachi.

"Then we'll fight our way out. Tch, look at us. We're the strongest bunch of captains and lieutenants to ever come out of Sereitei," Shinji grinned, "Its going to take more than a couple of shinigami to capture us."

"But we are still fugitives," said Rose, "A little discretion may be in order. Like Kensei said, we aren't the most normal looking group of people. And if Soul Society circulated out descriptions we'll probably need disguises of some sort."

"You're going to chop off that pretty hair of yours, Rose?" jeered Shinji.

Rose looked taken aback, "Well, I wouldn't go that far. Dressing like the locals should be enough…"

"You just don't want to lose that nice mane o' yours. Face it, you'll stand out like Boss Yama in the Rukongi looking like that," said Shinji.

"Your hair is much more noticeable than mine and I don't see you volunteering to cut it," Rose shot back.

"He's got you there, baldy!" laughed Hiyori.

Annoyance flashed across Shinji's face, "Fine, where are the scissors?" Hiyori's laughter stopped and she looked up, stunned.

"You're really going to cut your hair?" said Hiyori, as if he had said he was planning a vacation to Hueco Mondo. The others looked surprised as well but Lisa stood and wandered over to the makeshift kitchen, pulling a pair of scissors from the drawer.

"What? He's right, it wouldn't be hard to spot him in a crowd the way he is now," said Lisa, profferings the scissors towards Shinji. "Besides, I want to see if he has the balls."

"It's just hair," said Shinji dismissively, and went to sit on of the crates that lined the warehouse. "Lisa, light of my life, will you do the honors?" Shinji leered. Lisa rolled her eyes but walked over to stand behind him.

* * *

Hiyori watched him take the seat and fluff out his stupid girly hair (all sleak and shiny and soft). Shinji was looking straight ahead, his gaze calm and aimless as if he hadn't a care in the world. After all, no captain would ever make a fuss about needing their hair cut, especially not if it meant the difference between life and death.

Then again, any other captain wasn't Hirako Shinji.

Even back on the streets of Rukongai where they had grown up together, Shinji had been vain about it. It was the only thing he wasn't self conscious about. He had taken his self-consciousness with him when he became a captain, affecting bulky robes to hide his scrawny body. There was nothing he could do about his teeth or upside-down, toothy grin and so he had turned that weakness into a strength, using that leering smile that cut his face in half to unsettle his enemies and friends.

His hair though, his (stupid, girly, doesn't-deserve-to-be-on-a-boy) hair was his secret pride. It wasn't the first sacrifice he had made for their new life earth, no way in hell it would be the last. But it was the most visible. Even Lisa hesitated as she pulled it back. It was like cutting their rope back to Soul Society. Soon they would all be different, true Hollow hybrids and no longer Shinigami of the Court of Pure Souls.

Hiyori's eyes itched and she scrubbed at them furiously, blotting out the image of Lisa (beautiful shiny black hair, tall lithe figure, mature, the lady who had caught the eye of lecherous Captain Kyoraku and held it for over half a century) as she asked, "How short?"

And Shinji turned his head back to whisper like a lover, or a boy with his first crush (Hiyori scrubbed harder) something that Hiyori couldn't hear because she was pounding across the room, lips curled back in a snarl and snatched the sheers from Lisa's fingers.

"I'll do it," she bit the words off one by one and Lisa didn't even blink, only backed away , hands held open and high to allow the blonde fireball in her torn red yukata free access.

The widening of Shinji's eyes had as much to do with fear as surprise. "Oi, I didn't ask you—"

"Shut up and sit straight or I'll really make you a baldy," she snapped, her voice harsh and choked at the end. Shinji whipped forward and missed Hiyori scrubbing her eyes across her yukata sleeve one last time, missed the stain of water spreading across the cheap silk.

If it had to be done it was going to be done right, she thought even as Shinji's head twitched back, "A little past the shoulders, Sarugaki-san."

"I said look forward, retard!" said Hiyori, clubbing him upside the head with the hilt of the scissors. Shinji's head whipped forward and in one smooth movement Hiyori grabbed a clump of strand at the base of his neck and sliced.

The soft sound of the clump hitting the floor filled the warehouse.

"Oops, looks like I accidentally cut it too short, baldy, guess I'll have to make it all even now," she cackled and set to work, occasionally clubbing Shinji back into submission as he struggled.

The final result was…not pretty. Jagged bits stuck out ever which way as if someone had taken a handful of straw and glued onto Hirako's skull. Lisa found a mirror and with a smirk Hiyori brought it up for Shinji to see the results.

For a moment he could only gape at the choppy mess. One hand came up to touch a strand that stuck straight up at the top, before it fell bonelessly to his side. His head fell forward in what Hiyori thought was despair until the rest of his body followed and he fell into a dead faint on the floor.

"Hey, hey! Wake up you stupid baldy! Stop being such a girl about it," she shouted, grabbing his shoulders in both hands and shaking his prone body until his teeth rattled and he jolted upright. His gaze was wild and unfocused, until he saw Hiyori. With the jerky motions of a broken marionette, he reached forward and grabbed the tops of her shoulders so they were staring each other in the face. Awareness returned to his eyes.

"You idiot, look what you did!" he shrieked. "What the hell is this? You call this a hair cut?" He started shaking her back and in a moment they were both on the floor screaming and tearing at each other while the other former-Shinigami looked on in exasperation.

"No one will recognize you like this!" said Hiyori. With a frustrated groan, Shinji pinned her to the floor with a hand and looked up to Lisa, while the blonde struggled and clawed at his arm.

"Lisa, can you save it?" he pleaded.

Lisa nodded and gave him a thumbs up. "Sure."

With a sigh of relief Shinji let Hiyori go, though she remained attached to his arm and was gnawing on it when Shinji took his seat on the crate. Lisa measured out the scraggly lengths of his hair and set to work evening them out around the edges. Eventually Hiyori gave up and plopped down on the floor, scowling up at Shinji. It took several minutes, but by the end Shinji's hair was even along the ends and still retained the straight bangs, albeit a bit shorter. After investigating it in the mirror Shinji nodded to himself and stood, brushing off some of the loose hairs that clung to his suit. "I guess I can always wear a hat," he said. "Thank you, Lisa."

"Hey, what about me?" said Hiyori. "I helped too."

"You made it worse, idiot," he said. Hiyori opened her mouth then slammed it shut and folded her arms.

"Whatever," said Hiyori, looking away. With a sigh Shinji began to walk back towards the others when he felt Hiyori grab his sleeve. "Hey." He stopped and looked back at her over one shoulder. "When we leave here, we'll go together, right?"

For a moment Shinji looked like he was going to make an angry retort, but seeing the look on her face he stopped himself. "Sure thing," he said.

Hiyori was glad when he turned away again because if he had seen the irrepressible little smile that lit her face up she would have had to punch his lights out. And as he walked she examined the way his now short hair hung about his face, so different from before and yet the same, and decided she liked it.

Not that she would ever tell him that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to follow me on Tumblr where I'm also Avelera. As always, comments are much appreciated!


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